


Fall in Line

by SelenicSoul83



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14202612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenicSoul83/pseuds/SelenicSoul83
Summary: All Newt expected when dragged to a party he had no interest in was loud music, maybe an awkward conversation or two, and to sit back while watching others get drunk and embarrass themselves. Things never really strayed far from the usual where he lived.What he didn’t expect was to have a new boy tag along and for said boy to change things up.





	1. Chapter 1

A bike thrown into the bushes. A boy sitting on the curb, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. The setting sun on the horizon as two people watched him. None of it made much sense.

“Is he alright?” Minho asked in a hushed whisper.

The streets were quiet, not a single car passing by as the two friends stood frozen in place, looking at this boy neither of them knew. He ran his hands through his brown hair. Newt didn’t think he’d even noticed them yet. He felt Minho’s gaze on him, waiting for a reply. Newt met his eyes, shrugged. The boy didn’t _look_ alright if the hunched shoulders and mussed up hair were anything to go by.

Minho squared his shoulders. “Only one way to find out.”

Before he could take another step, Newt had grabbed his arm. “Wait. You’ll scare him.”

“I know you’re there. You won’t scare me.”

Newt dropped his hand from Minho’s arm. The boy had spoken, though he still had his eyes aimed firmly at the ground.

“And I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Minho laughed, then. He slapped Newt’s shoulder, walked over and plunked down next to the boy, leaving ample space between them. He leaned forward, trying to catch the other’s gaze.

Newt watched from the sidelines, looked at the clock on his phone and put it back still not knowing what time it was. Him and Minho had just left for this party he already didn’t want to attend, and now they’d stopped halfway there for some guy sitting at the side of the road.

He inspected the bike. The chain was hanging off it. Broken.

“I’m Minho,” he heard his friend introduce himself, who then jerked his head in Newt’s direction. “And that’s Newt.”

The unfamiliar boy finally looked up long enough to glance back. Newt waved awkwardly, but the other was already bending his head down again.

“Thomas,” he heard the boy mutter.

Minho grinned. “Nice to meet you, Thomas.”

Newt sighed, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. They were going to be here for a while, and he couldn’t blame Minho. Thomas seemed like he could use two complete strangers sitting down with him on a Friday night. Those strangers might’ve as well been them.

When the boy didn’t say anything else, Minho simply started talking about anything and nothing at all. About how it’d been a nice summer. About liking Thomas’s shirt. About biking down this road on the way to school, how he fell that one time when he raced his friends home, how he hit the concrete hard and his mom got so terribly mad over the rips in his jeans.

Newt smiled, remembering it. At the time Minho made up the weirdest explanations for that fall, from slippery roads though it hadn’t rained in days to someone having set up tripwire, while Newt was pretty sure what his friend really tripped over was a stray pebble.

“How would you feel about coming to this party with us?” Minho suddenly asked a still unresponsive Thomas.

Newt frowned. Maybe Minho was being a little too forward, a little overzealous. To his surprise, though, Thomas looked up.

“What party?”

“Our friend Alby’s,” Minho said. He looked back at Newt. “I don’t think he’d mind one extra guest, would he?”

“Sure not.” Newt kicked at a pebble, making it skid onto the road and regretting that. Some unsuspecting kid on a bike might just trip over it. When he glanced up, he found Thomas watching him. Newt shifted from one foot to the other, averted his eyes. “Alby might not even notice,” he said.

“So, you up for it?”

Thomas looked from Minho to Newt and back. “You’re seriously inviting me? You—We just met a minute ago.”

“Yet I’ve already been telling you my epic life story,” Minho said, then shrugged. “We’re on our way there and it might take your mind off whatever got you sitting here in the first place.”

“What happened to your bike?” Newt asked. The question came out of nowhere and seemed to catch Thomas by surprise as the boy’s eyes widened slightly. But Newt felt he really wanted to get at least one answer out of this person before they brought him into their friend’s home.

“The, um, the chain broke,” Thomas said after a moment. “And I can’t fix it.”

“Yeah, I get that, but why is it in the bushes?”

“That’s a good question,” Minho chimed in, crossing his arms as he regarded Thomas.

Thomas’s eyes went back to the road as he twisted his hands together restlessly. He was granted another moment to think about his reply when a large truck sped by them, engine roaring so loud Newt turned his head away instinctively. After the road emptied again, Thomas pushed himself up off the curb.

“I threw it in there,” he said. “Picked it up and tossed it, because I really wanted to throw _something_ , and I figured that would soften the blow.” He watched Newt, awaited his reaction.

But before Newt could say anything, before he could even start to understand this boy standing in front of him, they were interrupted by Minho’s boisterous laugh breaking the calm evening air. He ambled over to Thomas and put an arm around his shoulders. “I _really_ think you should come to this party with us.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked as he kept his eyes on Newt, who could only nod.

Then he cleared his throat. “Yeah. And if you don’t like it we can just leave.”

Minho raised an eyebrow at him, as if asking what he meant by ‘we’. Newt didn’t know either why he assumed Thomas would still want to hang out with them even if the party was a bust.

“Fine,” Thomas said. He nodded. “I’ll come with and check it out.”

“Alright!” Minho clapped him on the shoulder.

Thomas looked over at his bike. “Should I just leave that here?”

“It’ll only be a burden to drag along,” Minho said. “Besides, I don’t think anyone’s out to steal a broken bike.”

Thomas barely spared the thing another glance before he shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Minho took the lead, heading to where the sun cast its final red glow to the sky before the darkness of the night would take over completely, Thomas at his side. Walking behind them, Newt finally checked the time for real. The party would be well on its way by now and they might not even have to stay long. He grinned as he caught Thomas glancing back at him.

“You can still back out,” Newt said.

“Why?” Thomas asked. He fell back for a moment to walk next to Newt. “What am I getting myself into?”

Newt lifted his shoulders. “Nothin’ too bad, I hope. But you might find some of our friends can be a bit… intense.”

“Intense?”

“You can leave whenever.”

At that, Thomas bit his lip. “I don’t have anywhere else to be,” he muttered.

There was more to be told there, but he didn’t seem ready to do so. Instead, Thomas picked up the pace to be walking in between Minho and Newt, not allowing for either one to spark up a conversation. Newt wasn’t going to think too much of it. He felt around in his pocket for the key he kept there, twisting it between his fingers this way and that, feeling the texture on the metal and tracing the ridges. He pushed aside thoughts of Thomas’s glum expression.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, interspersed only by the occasional car driving by or Minho asking short questions. By the end of their five-minute journey, they’d found out that Thomas had just moved to their small town from the next city over, and that he’d be attending the same high school come fall. His mom had thought he might be able to meet some people over the summer before school started, which was how he’d be able to get away with staying out tonight. He didn’t tell them how he ended up sitting on that curb to begin with.

They heard the party before they even saw the house. Right as they rounded the corner, the front door flew open and out stormed a boy, tall and lanky and crossing the yard in just a few long strides.

“Hey, Gally!” Minho called over. He waved, but dropped his arm when Gally faced him with a glare. “Already that great, huh?” he mumbled.

Newt rubbed his forehead. They’d only just gotten here. The sun had barely set.

Thomas stepped closer to Newt, leaned in to ask, “What’s up with him?”

Gally must’ve heard because he snapped his head around and now had his eyes on the new kid. Newt sensed Thomas recoil.

“Who’s this shank?” He stepped closer, peering at Thomas’s face, scrutinizing him. “Do I know you?”

Thomas backed away slightly. “I don’t think so.” When Gally didn’t move, he looked at Newt. “Shank?” His voice cracked a little over the one word.

Newt opened his mouth to answer, but Gally shook his head, held up his hand. “Whatever. I don’t care.” It had looked like he cared. Someone else stepped out of the house, calling over Gally’s name. He didn’t give them the time of day. “You guys have fun,” he said, voice dripping with mock cheer. He swatted away Minho’s hand, who’d tried to calm him down, and headed for the road.

“That was…” Minho sighed. “That was Gally,” he said to Thomas.

“I see,” was all the boy replied, staring after where Gally had disappeared into the dusk. The sun was down, and darkness quickly settled in around them.

Newt chuckled. “Want to bail yet?”

He hadn’t seen Thomas smile before now. “No. This is promising.”

Newt wanted to respond, call him ridiculous, but Minho already had his arm around Thomas’s shoulders for the second time that evening and was walking them all to the front door.

“Something tells me you’re going to fit right in,” Minho said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise filtering out.

Newt gritted his teeth. That was exactly what he was afraid of.


	2. Chapter 2

“Gally was probably just drunk,” Minho said, only half directing his words at Thomas, as if he was trying to convince himself as well. He made a throwaway gesture, telling the boy not to worry about it.

“Though that wasn’t much different from his usual demeanor,” Newt said.

Minho turned around, lifted his eyebrows and nodded his head toward Thomas, asking Newt to watch his words.

“What?” Newt said. “Ya think it’ll scare off the Greenbean?” He grinned at Minho, but kept an eye on Thomas. Maybe it _would_ scare him off. Maybe that was what Newt intended to do. He almost _wanted_ Thomas to go now that he still had the chance to, before he got to know any of them and before any of them really got to know him. Newt already noticed Minho growing attached to the new kid, and he knew how easy it was to get swept up in the comings and goings of their small town. One day you’ve got plans to escape, to leave this place for greener pastures, and the next you realize just how strong your ties really are.

“Greenbean?” Thomas asked, shaking Newt from his reverie.

Minho shook his head. “Never mind. Gally’s a funny one. You kind of learn to roll with the punches.” He frowned. “Though he does throw a _lot_ of punches.”

Newt watched Thomas swallow, shift from one foot to the other, look around probably to make sure Gally wasn’t eavesdropping right that moment.

But before the boy could even consider leaving, Minho had a hand on Thomas’s arm and started dragging him further into the house. He opened the door to the living room, effectively stopping Thomas from saying anything else as music and chatter washed over them. People were dancing, drinking, shouting to understand each other over the noise—because Newt could hardly call that music—blasting from the speakers.

Newt felt his gut twist. He really didn’t like parties. Through the group dancing in the middle of the room, his eyes fell on the people on the sofa as they looked up, nudging each other’s arms about that new guy that just showed up with Minho. They were not subtle.

Within seconds of arriving, Minho ran over to a couple of his friends, leaving Thomas to fend for himself. Newt was at his side in an instant.

“Should we get you something to drink?” he asked.

Thomas shrugged, and Newt almost laughed. Thomas’s gaze shot all across the room. He looked about as uncomfortable as Newt felt.

Newt put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, started leading him toward the kitchen. “Let’s see what they’ve got.”

They almost ran into a girl leaving the kitchen, plastic cup in hand, the contents of which nearly spilled all over Newt.

“Hey, I’ve got the right of way here,” the girl said. She smiled, then, pulling Newt into a one-armed hug. “How have you been?”

“’ve been good,” Newt lied. He looked at Thomas. “Tommy, this is Harriet. Harriet, Thomas. Be nice to him, will ya?”

Harriet arched an eyebrow. “When am I ever not nice?”

Newt wasn’t going to answer that truthfully and walk out of this party alive. He simply smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” Harriet said. “See you around.”

With the kitchen empty of any other guests, Newt seriously considered just hanging back here for the rest of the evening. He probably would have, too, if it weren’t for Thomas. He couldn’t very well drag the boy down with him.

“What will you have?” Newt asked, grabbing a bottle of Coke and gesturing at the beers on the table.

Thomas looked conflicted, but his eyes remained on the bottle in Newt’s hand for longer.

Newt grinned. “Coke it is.” He filled two plastic cups, handed one over to Thomas who took it with a smile. “No one cares about what you’re having, by the way. And we don’t need another Gally.”

Thomas shrugged again. He took a sip, looked around the kitchen and back toward the living room. Newt almost rolled his eyes. No part of him wanted to go back in there. Too many people and too much commotion. He leaned against the counter, where he had a clear view of the living room, dancing bodies bumping into each other. His eyes fell on the boy standing in the corner, talking to Harriet. Or arguing to her, more like it.

“Who’s that?” Thomas asked.

Newt whipped his head around. “What?” Thomas pointed his cup toward the boy. “No one,” Newt said quickly.

A grin tugged at Thomas’s mouth. “Why are you looking at no one?”

This was no time for him to start being smug. Newt only crossed his arms. “I wasn’t looking at him,” he said after Thomas nudged his arm.

“Then can you at least tell me his name?”

“Alby.”

“The guy whose house we’re at?”

Newt bit his lip. Thomas just frowned at him. “Yes,” he said.

“Alright,” Thomas said. “Maybe I’ll ask Minho more about him then.”

That was somehow worse. Newt narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Why would you do that?”

Thomas didn’t waver under Newt’s glare. Instead, he faced him with a smirk. “Because if I’m going to be hanging out with you guys I better get to know everyone as soon as possible. Especially the people whose parties I go to.”

Newt couldn’t tell him that that was the last thing he wanted to happen. Thomas was new. They hadn’t grown up together, didn’t have years of shared experiences, inside jokes and anecdotes. If Thomas were to fit right in like Minho had said, then that would tell Newt once and for all that nothing was ever going to change. This place trapped whoever dared set foot in it. There was no way out.

When they started talking to that boy sitting by the road, Newt had seen an escape.

And he wasn’t going to give that up so easily.

“You don’t actually seem to like parties that much,” he said instead. “Or is it just this one you’re uneasy about?”

Thomas grimaced. “You got me.” He looked down at the cup in his hand, swirled the contents around. When he looked back up, he smiled. “But I’m enjoying myself now.”

To hide the stupid grin he couldn’t fight down, Newt sipped his drink. He made no move to leave the kitchen just yet, and neither did Thomas. Newt asked him why he’d moved here from the city, because he couldn’t for the life of him imagine doing the same. For years Newt had been dreaming of moving _away_ from their town, _toward_ the city. Why anyone would do the opposite was beyond him.

Thomas didn’t answer for a moment, pressing the rim of his plastic cup to his lips without drinking from it.

“You don’t have to answer,” Newt was quick to say.

“Oh, no.” Thomas shook his head. He looked lost there for a second. “My mom just got a new job around here,” he said, then finished his drink in one long gulp.

“I see,” Newt said. He watched Thomas fill his cup again. “Must suck to have to change schools now, right?”

To his surprise, Thomas chuckled. “It’s fine, actually,” he said. “I don’t really mind.”

Newt only nodded, tried to make sense of this boy. He’d be freaking out if he were in Thomas’s shoes. It wasn’t easy being the outsider in places like this, where everyone knew each other and had known each other their whole lives. Newt and Minho had been friends practically since birth, their parents being friends from back when they went to the same high school their kids now attended. The rest of their friends they’d known since kindergarten. They used to spend all summer together running around the woods and building camps. Those things may have changed with age, but the memories they’d have forever.

It shouldn’t be so easy to step into that, to fall in line with the carefully established order.

Yet Thomas didn’t appear to worry about any of that, and Newt believed he wouldn’t have much trouble with it at all.

Newt needed to just stop thinking for a moment. “Let’s go see what’s out there,” he said, already heading for the living room. Drink in one hand, the other went back to the key in his pocket. The metal had warmed up to his skin.

In his attempt to silence his thoughts, Newt walked right up to Alby, who was in the middle of some elaborate explanation, hands waving around frantically. He halted when Harriet rolled her eyes. He dropped his arms.

“Newt.” He turned toward them, but didn’t even spare Thomas a glance. “Tell Harriet over here that I’m right.”

“Alby’s right,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

Harriet laughed. “Your input doesn’t count,” she said, holding up her hand to block Newt out.

“Hey!”

“What’s going on here?”

Newt almost buckled under the weight as Minho threw an arm over his shoulders. His breath already reeked of beer.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, shoving his friend off, who immediately moved onto Thomas.

“Alby thinks he knows everything better, as usual,” Harriet supplied.

“I do know _this_ better!” Alby’s eyes fell on Newt again, asking him to back him up.

He still had no clue what they were even arguing about.

Newt’s fingers clenched around the key in his pocket, teeth digging into his skin. “I’m staying out of this,” he said eventually when everyone’s eyes remained on him. If he’d wanted to take his mind off things, this had not been the way to go. He turned around. He needed some air. There were too many people in here.

“Am I missing something?” he heard Thomas ask.

Minho said, “Don’t worry about it, Greenie.”

Newt ran out through the back door.

 

Some people hung around in the backyard, but no one Newt knew personally. They didn’t pay him much attention when he sat down on the edge of the deck, feet swinging underneath, toes brushing the dry lawn. Voices boomed inside, rolling over each other as a dozen different conversations were held at once. One of those voices was Alby’s. Newt tried not to focus on it.

The air had cooled after sunset, a crisp breeze making the hairs on his arms stand up. He tried to rub some warmth back into them.

“If I had a jacket I would give it to you.”

Newt couldn’t subdue a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he said, looking up to find Thomas smiling down at him. The boy had his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. Newt nodded at the space next to him. “You can sit down if you want.”

Thomas complied. They didn’t say anything else.

Newt looked down at his feet, at his black sneakers and their worn soles. He pulled up his leg and rolled up the cuffs of his jeans that had come down throughout the evening. He rested his arms on his knee.

“I’m surprised Minho isn’t taking you hostage,” he said, turning his head to face Thomas.

The boy sat leaning back on his hands, staring up at the sky. Newt followed his example, but it was too overcast to see many stars. He looked back down to find Thomas’s eyes already on him.

“I just told Minho I wanted to check up on you,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “He told me you were fine but, I don’t know, guess I just wanted to see for myself.”

“Minho’s right,” Newt said. Not his favorite words and he would never say them when the other was around to hear. He looked out in front of him, over the fence separating this yard from the next. “I’m fine.”

This didn’t deter Thomas. “Just wanted to make sure,” he said. Newt noticed the halt in his speech as Thomas thought of what to say next. He imagined the boy gnawing on the inside of his cheek but didn’t dare look to verify. He listened as Thomas took a steadying breath. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but”—another pause—“is something up with you and Alby? I asked Minho, but he told me to ask you and—” He cut himself off mid-sentence, hand at his neck again. “I’m sorry.”

Newt frowned. He wasn’t sure what to say. Had it been that obvious? What exactly did Thomas think he’d seen anyway? And even if he wanted to answer the boy’s question, he just couldn’t.

“I don’t—He’s not—” Newt shook his head, laughing. “Ya know, never mind. I’m not talking about this to some guy I just met on the side of the road.”

A smile crept onto Thomas’s face. “What?” he said. “You don’t often meet new people that way?”

Newt punched his shoulder. “No, Tommy, I don’t.” He didn’t often meet new people _period_.

Someone opened the back door and noise flooded out. Newt caught Alby’s voice again, but tuned him out just as fast.


	3. Chapter 3

Newt could get used to this. Sitting outside on a cool—getting gradually cooler—summer night, just feeling the breeze and swinging his feet and not paying an ounce of attention to the abundant background noise. There were no stars visible on the night sky, but if he looked long enough he could just about imagine the small lights peeking out from behind the clouds. He could imagine the moon shining bright enough to light up the world and guide him. Where to, Newt wasn’t sure yet. Away.

He didn’t have to imagine the boy sitting next to him, whose fingers brushed against Newt’s as he shifted and whose foot tapped Newt’s shoe every time the latter rocked his feet back.

He and Thomas stayed outside for another fifteen minutes, just watching people doing cartwheels on the lawn and not talking about Alby, before Minho came and hauled them both back in.

“Why?” Newt asked, pulling his arm free from Minho’s grasp after he had pulled him up.

His friend frowned. “Because I came here to have a nice night out with my best friend, and so far I’ve barely even seen you.”

_And whose fault is that?_ Newt thought. He sighed. Minho was watching him with that pitying look he could not stand.

“You know I didn’t even want to come here,” Newt said, and if he sounded whiny then he didn’t care.

Minho turned to Thomas. “Can you talk him into having some fun for once? He seems to take it from you.”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, looked at Newt, who crossed his arms. He blinked. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

“If it weren’t for you,” Minho said, “he would have been on his way home right now.”

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” Newt said.

Both Minho and Thomas looked at him, then exchanged a glance.

Newt was starting to get pretty fed up with this situation, having Minho and Thomas team up against him already. He did not like the direction things were going.

“Fine,” he said at long last. “I’ll go in there, hang out with you for a bit. But you can’t force me to have fun.”

Minho held up his hands, palms out. “I can only ask you to try.” Newt rolled his eyes. “Good,” Minho said. With a smirk, he grabbed Thomas’s arm and pulled the boy inside, knowing full well that Newt would follow. And he did.

And Newt did try to have fun. He tried to have fun as they jumped around on the makeshift dancefloor, bumping into people more than anything, Minho grabbing his hands and swaying them from side to side to get him moving. And as Newt did the same thing with Thomas a couple of minutes later. Sometime between stepping on Thomas’s foot as he was shoved forward and nudging Minho to say a cute girl was looking at him, Newt realized he wasn’t just _trying_ to have fun anymore. He was laughing and singing along to the music and, frankly, having the time of this life.

When his leg started to hurt and he needed to sit down for a moment, Thomas joined Newt on the couch.

“How come it hurts?” Thomas asked.

All of a sudden Newt wished the boy would go back to dancing. He asked fewer questions that way.

“Broke it a couple of months ago. It acts up sometimes.”

Thomas only nodded. “Hey, do you want anything to drink? I’ll go get us something.”

He was up and on his way before Newt could even properly reply.

Newt watched him go, watched him almost run into a group of girls dancing in a circle. Thomas threw them an apologetic smile, and they gave each other meaningful looks once he turned his back on them.

Wonderful. He was already attracting a bloody fan club.

Newt couldn’t help but snigger. He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. He started to understand why Thomas wasn’t the least bit worried about finding his place around here. Something about the boy drew others to him. It looked like he was going to be just fine.

“Who’s your friend?”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Alby laughed. He fell down where Thomas had sat before. “No, of course not. One shank more or less isn’t going to make a difference.” He looked around the room. Plastic cups and beer bottles littered every surface. Drinks had been spilled, but Newt noticed Alby had at least remembered to remove the rug in advance this time.

He also noticed that Alby hadn’t been drinking. And that he was sitting pretty close despite them being the only people on the couch right now.

A burst of laughter caught Newt’s attention. On the other side of the room some people sat in a circle, chatting amongst themselves. Minho was with them, throwing glances in Newt’s direction. When he caught his friend’s gaze, Minho lifted an eyebrow, nodding over at Alby. Newt simply shook his head.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Newt turned to Alby again. “What?”

“Your friend?”

“Oh, Tommy? It’s kind of a weird story. Blame Minho.”

Alby chuckled. Newt filled him in on how Thomas ended up at his party in as few words as possible.

“Of course Minho would ask him over,” Alby said. He slumped on the couch, draping his arms over the back.

Newt shifted in his seat, away from Alby’s arm resting against his shoulder. He rubbed his hands together, crossed one foot over his knee for no reason other than to give himself something to do, to try and find a way to carry himself.

Alby definitely wasn’t helping much when he leaned forward again, slapped his hand down on Newt’s knee. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

Now this was familiar ground, something Newt knew how to respond to. It wasn’t unusual for Alby to be asking favors. “Let me guess,” he said. He lifted one hand to gesture around the room. “You want me to help clean up this mess you’ve enabled.”

Alby scratched his chin. “I might need a hand, yes.” When Newt just rolled his eyes, Alby started pleading. “My parents are not going to be happy if I don’t get this place back to a reasonable state by the time they get home.”

“And when’s that?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

Newt chewed on his cheek. “I’m not setting an alarm for this,” he said.

Alby grinned. He must’ve known from the get-go he’d be getting his way, and Newt hated it. “If you can get here by noon or something that’d be terrific,” he said.

“I’m not making any promises.” It was Newt’s weak attempt at telling Alby he couldn’t just expect the other to jump at his every whim.

“So I’ll just see you—”

Alby didn’t get to finish that sentence as chaos erupted somewhere else in the house. Newt jumped up at the sound of breaking glass, Alby already running out ahead toward the kitchen. Aside from the music still playing through the speakers, the rest of the room grew eerily quiet, conversations dying down in lieu of this new development.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Alby asked someone right as Newt walked up behind him.

Gally was back, and drunker than before. “Do I know you?” he asked, and it took Newt a moment to realize Gally was talking to Thomas. He jabbed his finger at the boy’s chest. “I’ve seen you before, I _know_ it.” He frowned, probably trying to remember. The boy looked ready to fall over any moment now.

Newt’s eyes found the broken gin bottle on the ground, its contents staining the floor. They’d have to get that glass cleaned up.

Meanwhile Thomas looked anywhere but at Gally. “I don’t think so,” he said, answering Gally’s question. “I just moved here.” He’d backed up against the counter, tried to move away.

“Back off, Gally,” Newt said, coming up to stand between the two.

Gally held both his hands up in surrender. “I was just asking the Greenie a question,” he said, words slurring together. Then, looking over Newt’s shoulder, he said, “I think he knows full well what I’m talking about.”

Newt just stepped into his line of sight again.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Alby intervened. He reached out to put a hand on Gally’s shoulder, but the boy moved away, almost stumbling over his own feet in the process.

Alby looked back at Newt, who took the hint and turned to grasp Thomas’s arm and dragged him out of the kitchen. He heard Gally calling out behind them, but Newt didn’t spare him another glance. Everyone had started gathering in the kitchen, those who couldn’t fit trying to look over other people’s heads from the living room. Newt forced his way through the crowd, only stopping when he ran into Minho.

“What was that about?” his friend asked.

Finally, Newt looked at Thomas, who had his eyes set on a spot on the wall, jaw clenched. Newt sighed. “You still want to hang out with your best friend?” he asked.

Minho nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

Newt ran his tongue against the back of his teeth. He looked from Minho to Thomas, whose arm he was still holding, and glanced back at Alby ushering Gally up the stairs to sleep it off. He jerked his head toward the front door. “Let’s go then.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you have any idea what made Gally leave in the first place?” Newt asked.

“I asked around a bit,” Minho said, “but no one really knew. Or cared. He seemed to be lashing out at people for no reason though.”

“Hm. It’s not like him to get so drunk,” Newt said, biting his thumbnail. He brushed back his hair as it blew into his face.

Minho shrugged. “Isn’t it, though? If anyone’s going to cause trouble, it’s him.”

The three boys had left Alby’s house behind them and wandered down the street. Even though Newt had suggested leaving, he had no clue where to go.

“Yes, but he’s usually sober for that. Or at least sober enough. This was weird even for him.”

Thomas hadn’t said anything since they left. Right now, he stared down at his feet, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked off to Minho’s right. Newt looked across his friend at the boy.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Thomas’s head snapped up. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” When both Newt and Minho frowned at him, he sighed. “I guess I may be a little shaken up. I swear I was just trying to get something to drink when Gally showed up and started rambling about I don’t even remember what. He wasn’t making much sense. Next thing I know I’m backed into a corner and I hit that bottle of the counter.” He bent his head down again.

Minho stepped closer to Thomas, squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “No one’s blaming you. Don’t worry too much about it,” he said.

“I’m sorry for ruining you guys’ evening.”

Newt scoffed, earning him a laugh from Minho.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Minho said. He looked at Newt. “I’d almost start to think you set this up somehow.”

“I’m not that cunning,” Newt said. “I also don’t even want to think about the mess Gally might be making right about now that I’ll get to deal with in the morning.”

“Alby roped you into that again?”

“Slim it, Minho.”

“What was it you said the last time he asked for something? ‘It’s just one time?’ And the time after that? Did you forget how to count?”

“I said drop it,” Newt snapped.

“Are we actually going anywhere in particular?”

Newt quit giving Minho death glares to look at Thomas instead. The boy smiled nervously. He kept glancing between Newt and Minho.

“Let’s head that way,” Minho decided then, turning into a dark alley on their right. He didn’t bother to check if the others were following, just assumed they would because Newt always followed him, everywhere. Because Newt had never had anywhere else to go.

He watched Minho disappear into the darkness, quick steps echoing off the walls.

Thomas hesitated for a moment until Newt nudged his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he said with a grin that came surprisingly easy given what just happened. “I swear no one’s going to jump you.”

“I wasn’t—” Thomas stopped. “Are you okay?”

Newt frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“You shanks coming or what?” Minho called, standing under a lamppost on the other side of the alley.

Thomas shifted from one foot to the other. “No reason. It’s just—I feel like—”

“Spit it out, Tommy.”

“I’m sorry for butting in,” he said, meeting Newt’s gaze. “Clearly something’s wrong and now I kept you from talking it out or anything.”

Newt bit his cheek. He couldn’t tell Thomas he was wrong, because then he’d be lying, and it felt wrong to lie to Thomas. But he couldn’t very well come out and explain everything either. Not here, not now.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said eventually. He sighed. “We wouldn’t have talked about it anyway, whether you were here or not.” And that was the truth.

To avoid Thomas’s curious look, Newt finally followed after Minho. The alley was lined on one side with Dumpsters from a small apartment building and on the other with old bikes. Even in what little light they had he saw one was missing a seat and another two had broken wheels.

“If you need a new one,” Newt told Thomas, kicking a rusty can into the bikes, “Most of these are unlocked.” He was desperate to change the subject.

“I don’t think I want to be stealing bikes just yet,” Thomas said.

Newt shrugged. “You do you.” He felt Thomas’s eyes on him, maybe trying to figure out if he was being serious, but Newt had his gaze trained on the back of Minho’s head. The boy had turned his back on them, arms stretched out over his head, bending first to the left then to the right. He finally turned around once they reached him, locking his hands together behind his head.

“Nice of you two to finally join me,” he said.

Newt rolled his eyes. “This is where you wanted to go?” he asked, pointing over to a small fenced off field of dry grass. It held a swing set with two swings and not a patch of grass left underneath, a merry go round that had lost all its color, and monkey bars that were missing a bar.

“Well that’s not creepy at all,” Thomas muttered.

Minho slapped Thomas’s shoulder, telling him to pull himself together and not to insult their playground, before running over to the gate in the fence. The lock and chain keeping it closed had disappeared years ago, around the same time the last kid had stopped caring about the place. The gate creaked on its hinges as Minho pulled it open.

Thomas waited for Newt to follow before falling into step beside him.

“You guys used to play here?” he asked.

Newt couldn’t help but smile, temporarily forgetting his annoyance with Minho. “Yeah. We used to spend more time here than we did at home.” He couldn’t begin to count the number of grazed knees and bloody noses they endured in those days. The bruises littering their arms and legs from wrestling or playing soccer. The nights their parents came to call them back home because they’d stayed out after dark again. He missed it.

This was exactly why he could never walk away from this town; it held too many fond memories. Memories of easier times, before any of them worried about who to hang out with, who might beat them up for saying the wrong thing, or who to date.

“That sounds like it’s going to break.”

Newt had zoned out. Minho was on one of the swings, kicking his feet out forcefully. The chains squeaked and scratched. The iron frame shook from side to side with every swing. Thomas was right. It did sound like the whole setup could come crashing down any second now.

“Maybe you shouldn’t swing so hard,” Newt called over. He finally walked onto the field himself. Everything seemed smaller than he remembered it to be.

Instead of listening, Minho only swung harder, kicked with more power, pulled on the chains with all his might, making his muscles bulge under his shirt. Maybe he did it specifically to spite Newt.

“Show-off,” Newt mumbled, making Thomas chuckle. He smiled back.

Minho jumped off the swing just short of the highest point, crouching in the landing. He jumped up, pumping his fist in the air. “Still got it!” he yelled out.

“I’ll race you on the monkey bars,” Thomas said.

Minho crossed his arms. “You really think you’ve got what it takes to beat me, Greenie?”

Thomas puffed out his chest. “I guess we’ll find out.”

They ran over to one side, grabbed onto the first bar. Minho’s side was missing a slat, so Thomas would make up for it by skipping one as well.

“Newt, you count down,” Minho instructed.

Newt stood at the other end so he could see who won, then counted down from three to one. Thomas fumbled a bit at the beginning, letting Minho take the lead by a couple of bars, but Minho’s hand slipped when he had to bridge the gap left by the broken bar. By the time he’d grasped onto the next one, Thomas had overtaken him. Thomas kept the advance till the end, touching off first.

After he jumped down, he held one hand up for Newt to high five. They laughed as Minho finally touched ground next to them.

“Sorry, mate. The Greenie is better.”

“It’s because my arms got tired from swinging,” Minho said with a huff.

Thomas grinned. “I would have never anticipated that.”

Minho’s mouth fell open, while Newt just laughed louder.

Finally, Minho crossed his arms, nodded his head. “I’m impressed,” he said. “I’d say it’s borderline cheating, but I guess you did beat me fair and square.” He held out his hand. Thomas looked at Newt, frowning, before he shook it reluctantly. Minho pulled him into a hug, slapping his back once, twice, before letting go. He put both his hands on Thomas’s shoulders. “You’re a good one, Thomas. I like you.”

Thomas stumbled back a bit when Minho finally let him go. He scratched his head, but Newt saw the smile he was trying to hide. “Good,” he said. “I like you guys too.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Newt said, stopping their sappy little moment—in Minho’s case fueled by alcohol—short, “that merry go round must be feeling awfully neglected.”

Newt and Thomas jumped up on the platform, the metal creaking under their weight.

“I don’t know, Newt,” Minho said, fingers closing around one of the handles. “This thing wasn’t made to carry teen boys even when we played here ten years ago. It might not survive this.”

Newt put his hands in his sides. “So you can go on the swings and bars, but the moment I want to do something you start second guessing?”

Minho couldn’t contest that. He put both hands on the handle, getting ready to push them around. “You got it,” he said. “Hold on tight.”

Thomas and Newt each grabbed onto a handle as Minho dug his feet into the soil. Again, not a patch of grass had survived years of kids running around in circles. Minho gave it his all, probably hoping either one of them would go tumbling down if he just spun them hard enough. But the boys stood their ground, even when Thomas got cocky and let go of the handle. He held his arms out to his sides, grinning wide.

“Look at the Newbie. Newt, what was that you were saying about show-offs earlier?”

Newt ignored his friend. Instead he listened as Thomas told him to let go as well. He bit his lip before releasing one hand, then the other. He stood up, straightening his back and holding out his arms just like Thomas did.

“That’s it!” the boy shouted, voice mixing with the creaking of the ride and carrying easily though the quiet night.

Newt was laughing and about to say something back when the ride lurched to a halt, throwing both boys off balance. Newt grabbed Thomas’s arm just as the other did the same to him. They managed to stay upright, somehow, holding onto each other. Newt stared into Thomas’s wide eyes, caught by surprise not only by the sudden stop, but by the warmth of Thomas’s hands on his arms and as they slipped down to his own hands for just a moment before he let go.

Then Minho’s cackling laughter broke the silence.

Newt snapped out of it, twisted around. Minho stood doubled over, hands on his knees, still panting from spinning them around. “Thanks a lot, Shuck-face,” Newt said. He jumped off the merry go round, reaching for Minho. His fingers grazed the boy’s shoulder, but Minho was quick on his feet and already running away. Newt went after him for about ten yards before he felt the sting in his leg. Chasing Minho would have to wait.

He turned back around.

“Not going to get him back?” Thomas asked. If Newt didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the other avoided looking straight at him.

He shrugged. “Some other time, maybe. When he least expects it.”

Thomas nodded. “Sounds good. Let me know so I can watch.”

“Will do.”

Thomas held out his hand, and Newt let the boy pull him back onto the platform. Minho stood in the far corner of the field, one hand clutching the fence. He’d grow bored over there and come back to them soon enough.

Newt sat down on the platform, crossing his legs under himself. Thomas followed suit.

“I swear he’s not always like that,” Newt said.

Thomas grinned. “Yes, he is.”

Newt put his head in his hands, confessed that, “Yeah, he is,” and made Thomas laugh.

The next moment the merry go round moved again, spinning around slowly. Minho jumped onto it with them. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” Newt said at the same time Thomas said, “You.” Newt glared at the boy, who only smiled in return.

Minho grinned. “I thought you’d be.”

The three boys sat on the merry go round long after it stopped spinning, backs to the middle, leaning against each other. Newt looked around, at the swing that moved in the soft breeze, at the field and the spots where they used to mark goal posts with their jackets when they played soccer.

“I haven’t been completely honest,” Thomas said, breaking the silence.

Newt turned his head, twisted his body to be table to look at Thomas. Their arms pressed together. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Gally,” Thomas said. Now Minho turned to watch him as well. “Thomas pulled his legs up. “I have met him. At least I think I have. I’m pretty sure we entered the same science fair once or twice.”

“Did you beat him?” Minho asked.

Thomas chuckled, head bent down. “Probably,” he said. “I had a couple of teachers that were kind of pushing me into these things. And I liked science well enough, but I never cared much about winning. I just wanted to have a good time, but other kids, like Gally, didn’t really like me.”

Before Newt could say anything, Thomas continued. “So yeah. Maybe I should tell him or something.”

“No,” Minho said immediately. “Keep pretending you don’t know him. It’ll drive the guy nuts.” He yelped as Newt pinched his arm.

“You do whatever seems right to you,” he said to Thomas.

“Thanks, Newt. I’ll do that.”


	5. Chapter 5

“What is this place?”

“You’ll see,” Minho said, keeping up a firm pace.

They’d taken Thomas to the edge of town, had just left the last house behind as they continued down the road bordered on either side by forests of tall trees. Streetlights were few and far between here, and the sky was still overcast, hiding the moon behind dark clouds. It had started to cool down even more, and Newt really would’ve liked that jacket right about now.

There was not a car in sight, not another living person to be seen or heard. The trees started to clear away, opening up to a large lawn on the other side of a narrow ditch. Next, just visible through the construction fences, an old mansion, walls crumbling down, windows broken. A greenhouse to the right had little glass left in it, plants twining around the metal framework, climbing up and out toward the top.

Thomas’s eyes went from the stone stairs leading to the front door, to the dome on the left side of the building, and the turret-like towers on one of the corners. Newt watched as the boy discovered the place, amused with his amazement.

“This,” Minho said, spreading his arms wide with dramatic flair, “is our castle.”

“A castle?”

“That’s what it’s called around here,” Newt said. “I’d personally opt for ‘peculiar heap of bricks.’ But to each their own.”

Thomas frowned. “It sure looks peculiar,” he said.

They leaped over the ditch. The grass was tall enough to tickle at Newt’s bare ankles.

“What happened to it?” Thomas asked.

Minho shrugged while he walked ahead. “The owners died years ago. And I guess people had a hard time selling it, because it’s been left to rot all that time.”

They walked across the lawn, stopping at a large tree, the stem at least seven feet in diameter. Thomas stood at the foot and looked straight up into the treetop. What was he hoping to find there? Newt saw Thomas’s eyes scanning the foliage, across the longest branches, and running back down the stem.

“What about now?” he asked, turning around and following Minho, getting closer to the so-called castle. Thomas peered through the fences.

“They finally started renovating it,” Newt replied. “Don’t know how much of it they can salvage, though.”

“Are we even supposed to be here?”

Minho mumbled something.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“It’s a ruinous and still kind of abandoned building. What do you think?”

“Minho lives over there,” Newt said, pointing in the direction they came from. “Second house up the road.”

They headed for the back of the castle. Newt had always known that Minho spent so much time on these grounds he knew them like the back of his hand. Whenever he needed to get away from meddling parents worrying over test scores, or just needed some time to himself to think, he came and roamed the different floors, scoured all the little rooms.

But he’d never taken anyone along with him before, so when he suggested coming here next tonight, Newt had been surprised to say the least.

“I haven’t come over here since they started renovations,” Minho said, running his fingers over one of the fences. They came back dirty.

“Could we still get in?” Thomas asked.

Both Newt and Minho turned to him, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“You want to go in?” Newt asked.

Thomas shrugged. “Why not?”

The others exchanged a look, and Newt didn’t like what he saw on Minho’s face. That little glint in his eyes, the smirk on his lips. He rolled his eyes, and Minho took off.

“Come on, Thomas. I think we could—” He didn’t finish his sentence, looking around the corner. Thomas was already right behind him, and Newt watched on as Minho pointed to something on their end. Thomas nodded, and Newt didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like it one bit.

Finally he walked over to them in time to see Minho pull himself up on a brick wall about five feet tall, slotting his feet in gaps between the red stone. Before Newt could even try to stop him, his friend stood up on top of the wall. From there it seemed easy enough to climb over the fence standing next to it.

“This is a bad idea,” Newt said.

Thomas turned to him with a wide smile on his face. “No, it’ll be fine,” he said. He gestured for Newt to get on the wall. “I’ll give you a hand.”

“How are we going to get back?”

“I’m sure there’s a ladder somewhere on the other side,” Minho said. “Or some boxes. We’ll figure something out.”

But Newt shook his head, crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No. We shouldn’t.”

“Dude, why not?” Minho asked. He looked down over the fence. “It’s not like there’s anyone around. And, honestly, the place is probably safer now than it was when I used to come here. It seems they’ve already put up some support beams.”

“You’re saying the buggin’ ceiling could’ve come crashing down on you at any time? That’s reassuring.”

“Newt, please.” Thomas actually put his hands together, begging him. His smile was gone, replaced with something close to a pout, but Newt’s couldn’t take his eyes off of Thomas’s own. Big, round, brown, and looking just the faintest bit dejected.

From above, Minho coughed. They both looked up.

“While you’re having your little moment down there, I’m checking things out on the other side.” He climbed the last part of the fence, swung his leg over it, and disappeared behind it.

“Wait! Bloody h—” Newt wiped his hand over his face. “Minho! Are you okay?”

“Of course! Who do you think I am?”

Thomas was still watching him intently, and Newt thought the boy looked like he would break down and cry if he didn’t get to scale that fence now. “Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The grin returned to Thomas’s face. He tapped the top of the wall. “Want a hand?” he asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

Newt stepped up on Thomas’s hands, hoisted himself up the rest of the way. Once he got his feet under him again, he helped pull Thomas up by his arm.

They looked over the fence to find Minho grinning up at them. “Get your butts down here. It’s getting late.”

“What?” Newt asked. “Does someone need his beauty sleep?”

“If anyone needed a beauty sleep it’d be that ugly shank,” Minho said, nodding over at Thomas.

“Hey!”

Newt laughed, tried to stop it when Thomas looked genuinely upset but to no avail.

“Whatever,” Thomas said. He got up on the fence. It shifted from side to side under his weight but stayed luckily upright. Newt watched as he jumped off on the other side, and listened as he touched the ground.

Minho grew more impatient, telling Newt to get on with it already.

Now that he was sitting on top of the fence, looking down at the ground, it looked like quite the drop.

Newt bit his lip. The landing might hurt. He was already hurting.

“Jump,” Thomas encouraged him.

“I can’t,” he said. He rubbed his ankle subconsciously.

“Hey.” Thomas came up to stand right next to the fence. He reached up to touch Newt’s foot. “It’s okay. I’ll catch you.”

He was making this into too big a deal, Newt felt. “I’m not scared,” he said, even though he was. He’d never been too fond of heights.

Thomas cocked his head to the side. “I know that.”

Newt’s heart fluttered in his chest. Thomas’s hand was still on his foot, fingers brushing the skin exposed by his rolled-up jeans and sending tingles up his spine. He finally moved, just to get away from the touch, bringing his other leg over, facing the fence and carefully lowering himself to the ground. The wire scratched at his arms, and a sharp edge dug into his hand. When he tried to put his feet up against the metal, his shoe slipped and he lost his grip. He let go what he felt was far too soon.

His panic lasted only a second, because the next he fell back against Thomas, feeling two hands come up to grab his shoulders and hold him up. He got his feet back under him, and almost dropped to the ground when he felt a sting in his ankle. His mom would freak out if he messed it up again.

“That was close,” Thomas said next to his ear.

Newt twisted around, throwing Thomas’s hands off his arms. He looked at the grinning boy. Minho stood behind him, hand on his hip and eyebrow raised. Newt ignored the look his friend gave him.

“Thanks, Tommy,” he said. He brushed imaginative dirt off his jeans, felt another sting in his hand. He looked to see a small cut in his palm. It wasn’t bleeding, fortunately. It’d be just his luck to get it infected. “Let’s just get inside.”

Minho couldn’t be quicker to comply. He ran up to the castle, jumped onto the terrace. “There should be doors on that side”—he pointed to the right side of the house—“that have been unlocked for years. And otherwise, the windows don’t have much glass left in them anyway.”

All three were relieved to find the doors open indeed. Minho entered the castle first. Newt felt Thomas’s eyes on him as he followed, as though the boy thought he might flee any moment. He deliberately ignored those stares.

It was hard to imagine this place had once been beautiful. That anyone had ever lived in this building, even. The boys looked around at walls that had once been painted with elaborate patters but had now lost all color, they walked over cracked floors, and felt a gust of wind coming through stained glass windows that had been smashed in.

As Minho had said, walls were being supported left and right. The floor was littered with equipment.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Minho said. “There’s nothing interesting down here anyway.”

He led them through the ground level, to a grand staircase. Every single tread creaked under their weight. Newt kept some distance from Minho in case one of the boards gave away entirely, but he was acutely aware of Thomas being right on his heels. No one had said much since coming in.

The upstairs room were, if possible, in even worse condition. If workers had been cleaning up as they went, then clearly they hadn’t gotten to this part of the building yet. A thick layer of dust covered the whole place, from the floor to the doors to the cabinets lining the walls. Minho opened one such door to a bedroom that still held a bed and mattress that had holes gnawed through it by mice or maybe something bigger.

“And you used to come here for fun?” Thomas asked.

Newt thought he saw him shudder.

Minho closed the door again, cleaned his hand on his pants. “Can you tell I was desperate?”

They stepped over piles of dirt where parts of the ceiling had come down.

“We should get back outside,” Newt said. “This doesn’t seem safe at all.”

Minho waved it off. “It’s fine. That happened during some storm. And it’s not storming now, as far as I know.” He paid Newt’s protests no heed. “I just want to show you guys one thing. I promise it’s worth it,” he said.

He led them to another bedroom, this one far bigger than the other. No ratty mattress left here; just a bedframe with its large wooden headboard. But Minho didn’t care about those things. Instead he crossed the room in large steps, headed for the floor to ceiling windows on the other side, and more specifically for the door leading out onto the balcony. He disappeared through it. Just as Newt stepped outside, Minho climbed the first rung of a metal ladder attached to the side of the building.

“Oh no,” Newt said. He did not trust that rusty thing to hold, and even if it did, where was Minho climbing up to? The roof?

“Come on, Newt. If we die I promise I’ll take the blame.”

Newt crossed his arms. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not,” Minho agreed. “I’m just asking you to trust me on this.” Without waiting for a reply, he ascended the ladder and disappeared onto the roof.

For now at least it didn’t appear to collapse underneath him.

“We can stay down here,” Thomas said.

Newt turned to look at him, then back at the ladder, worrying his lip. “You should go with him if you want.”

“Not if you don’t.”

Newt heaved a sigh. “Let’s just get on with it, then.” Before he could think better of it, he climbed the ladder and met a smug looking Minho at the top. Thomas followed mere seconds later.

Newt didn’t dare to look up before he sat down and planted is feet firmly against the rain gutter to keep from sliding down, Thomas safely next to him. But when he did, he understood why Minho had wanted to take them here.

From up on the roof, they could see out over the trees, over the bordering fields, at the next town over and beyond. City lights shimmered at the horizon, sparkling red and blue and yellow between high-rise buildings. From where they sat, there was not a sound to be heard, no one to interrupt them or to tell them off. Newt leaned back on his hands, winced as he felt the grime covering the roof tiles under his fingers, but tried to see as far out ahead as possible. A bird, probably an owl, flew by just half a mile away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off those lights.

“Told you it’d be worth it.”

“It’s really nice,” Thomas said, and Newt almost scoffed at the understatement.

To Thomas, this was just nice. To Newt, this evoked a feeling like no other. One of freedom and endless possibilities. Living in a small and isolated town, it was easy to forget anything existed outside of your own house, family, friends. He could walk in one direction till his leg started to hurt, and he still wouldn’t get to see any lights like the ones he was watching right now. He’d maybe find another small town, at most.

He envied Thomas, really. For having grown up in the city, outside of this cramped little place. Newt felt so trapped, enclosed, like there was no way out. And, contrary to what this view told him, there really _was_ no way out. Everything and everyone he knew and cared about were right here with him. He’d never be able to escape, to leave behind the life he’d known for seventeen years.

That realization stung more than his ankle did. He felt Thomas’s arm pressing up against his, felt the heat radiating off him where their hands rested next to each other on the roof tiles, a breath away from touching.

He needed to get up, away from Thomas, and finally tore his eyes away from the lights.

“We better get home,” he said, more to himself than anything. He got up and felt suddenly overcome by vertigo.

Minho reached out right away, grabbing Newt’s hand to steady him. “Alright. Let’s find a way back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the people who've commented so far. It means the world <3


	6. Chapter 6

The construction workers would be confused when they got back on site and found one of their ladders resting against the fence, but the boys got out unscathed.

They jumped back over the ditch—where Thomas almost slipped, only just saved by Newt—and headed back into town.

“Where do you live?” Minho asked Thomas.

“Um, a little past the church? Like, one block from there.”

“Ah, Newt’s direction, then,” Minho said. “No reason for me to head all that way, right?”

Newt shrugged. “I guess not. Why? Too tired to walk us home?”

Minho grinned amiably. “You know it.”

For a moment longer, no one made any move to leave. Minho looked between Newt and Thomas, before directing himself at Newt. “Text me when you get home, alright?”

The other laughed. “What? Do you think Tommy here is going to try something?”

They both turned to the boy, who now stood with his hands held up, eyes wide, and trying to talk. “Why would you—I’m not—” He looked about as threatening as a baby rabbit.

Newt and Minho burst out laughing. Minho patted Thomas’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, just making sure.”

Thomas smiled again, but he still looked a bit weary, maybe a tad uncomfortable. “Of course.”

Newt bumped their shoulders together. “He’s just playing with you, alright?”

“Yeah, I know that,” Thomas said, still nodding as though convincing himself. “We should start heading back though. I have no idea what time it is, but I think I’ve made my point by now and I don’t want to get grounded my first week in this place.”

“It’s…” Minho fumbled around for a second to get his phone out of his pocket. “About half past two. You haven’t been in touch with your parents at all?”

Thomas turned his pockets inside out. “Don’t have my phone on me. So no one would bother me to come back home.”

“Drastic,” Minho said. “But I like it. I like you, Thomas.”

“You said that earlier already.”

“But I mean it.”

Thomas scratched his neck. “Thanks, I guess.”

If he ever wanted to get home, Newt would have to take matters into his own hands. He tapped Thomas’s arm to get his attention, started turning away from Minho to leave. “See you later, Minho,” he said. “I’ll text you.”

“Hey, Newt?”

He turned to see Minho with one hand scratching the back of his head. He looked around, down the empty road and at a lamppost over Thomas’s shoulder, anywhere but at Newt.

“Yes, Minho?”

The boy sighed, dropped his hand. “Don’t go over to Alby’s in the morning?”

A buzzing sound filled Newt’s ears. He clenched his fists, dug his nails into his palms and felt the sting from the cut he sustained earlier. “Drop it,” he told Minho for the second time that night, growled it almost.

But Minho seemed finally ready to push the subject. “No, I won’t. We talked about this, and—”

“ _You_ dragged me over there!” Newt yelled, not caring who might hear him, not caring that Thomas jumped at his sudden outburst. He needed to hear himself say this as much as he needed Minho to listen. “Don’t try and act all concerned now when I didn’t want to go tonight in the first place. What I do, who I hang out with, is none of your business. I was just fine avoiding him, but apparently I can’t avoid a single bloody thing in this godforsaken place!”

Without waiting for a reply, Newt turned on his heel and stormed off. His stupid leg hurt, and he couldn’t hide his limp, but he needed to keep going.

He didn’t hear Minho come after him. It would appear his friend wasn’t _that_ concerned about him either.

Newt wasn’t even paying attention to where he was going, leg and pained leg carrying him home by force of habit. It wasn’t until he was about two streets away that he stopped in his tracks. There a bike lay still in the bushes, chain broken.

“Huh. I guess nobody really is interested in stealing a broken bike.”

Newt’s gaze snapped away from the bike to look at Thomas now standing next to him. The boy wiped at his forehead, having worked up a sweat. Only now did Newt notice his own shirt sticking to his back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Thomas smiled. “I live that way, remember?” He pointed ahead of them.

Newt nodded, but he wasn’t exactly present. He had his eyes on that bike again. “Tell me what caused that,” he said.

“The broken chain? I don’t know, I was just pedaling down the road and it snapped—”

“Not just the chain,” Newt said.

When Thomas didn’t answer after a while, Newt finally looked at him. He found the boy wringing his hands together, working his jaw. “You’re going to think I’m ridiculous,” he said then, meeting Newt’s eyes.

“Try me.”

“I had a fight with a friend of mine,” Thomas said. “My best friend, actually.”

“What were you fighting over?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

Newt almost did laugh then. “ _Try me_ ,” he repeated.

Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky. Newt didn’t follow his gaze. He watched Thomas close his eyes, take a breath, and release a deep sigh. “She may have said that I was too impulsive.”

Newt laughed. Thomas punched his shoulder. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“No, no,” Newt said, catching his breath and rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder. “I said you could try me. Didn’t make any promises.”

Thomas crossed his arms. “You’re the worst.”

“You _are_ a very impulsive person,” Newt said. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, and it only grew when Thomas struggled to fight down a smile of his own.

He finally lifted his bike out of the bushes, pedals and spokes getting caught in the branches only a little. The broken chain rattled against the frame.

“Top ten sounds you don’t want to hear at night,” Newt joked.

“Top three,” Thomas said. He set the bike down. Other than the chain, it seemed alright. It probably wouldn’t be hard to fix.

Newt didn’t want to go home yet. Not when he was still angry with Minho, and maybe with Alby, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Sitting in his room with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company would only serve to make things worse.

As though Thomas could read his mind, he asked, “Want to sit down for a second? I could use a moment to catch my breath.”

Newt dropped down on the curb, in roughly the same spot they’d found Thomas in at the start of the evening. “Sure.” He leaned his elbows on his knees. “Let’s sit.”

He was very aware of the space Thomas left between them when he sat down.

“So your friend called you impulsive,” Newt said, turning to face Thomas, “and you thought, let’s rebel by running away from home without my phone, throwing my bike into the bushes when it breaks, going to this party with two guys I don’t know thrown by this other guy I don’t know, almost getting into a fight with some sore loser, and, to wrap it all up, sneaking into an old ruinous castle. Which was most definitely illegal, by the way.” Newt counted every single thing on his fingers. He used all five to slap Thomas’s knee, shook his head. “Not impulsive at all.”

After all that, Thomas only shrugged. “What can I say, I live to prove people wrong.”

_Don’t prove me wrong_ , Newt thought. He liked Thomas, and not only in the way Minho had meant earlier.

Before the silence could even properly settle over them, Thomas cleared his throat. “What, um, what is going on with you and Alby?”

Newt felt his cheeks flush. “Minho doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“He didn’t even tell me anything.”

Newt huffed. “But I still know how he feels about it. Trust me, I’ve heard it all before.” He put his head in his hands. He’d heard it all before _repeatedly_.

When Minho first found out about Newt’s crush on Alby, he’d been excited. He was the first and only person to know, even if Newt had never meant to share it at all. Minho was just surprisingly perceptive, and when he asked Newt about it, the boy hadn’t been able to convince him it wasn’t true. The flitting eyes and sweaty palms and crimson cheeks had ratted him out.

It was a silly crush, Newt knew. They’d all been friends for years, and then one day Newt noticed the butterflies in his stomach and the pounding of his heart when they hugged goodbye at another one of Alby’s parties, and suddenly that was all he could think about anymore.

He had no hopes of his feelings being reciprocated. He knew Alby well enough for that.

So he never told him, and he thought Alby would never find out. But even if he didn’t know, he must have noticed something, because it was shortly after Newt’s unexpected realization that Alby started acting different. He started asking Newt for more favors, like setting up a party or cleaning up afterwards. He copied homework a handful of times. He assumed Newt to have his back in any given argument at any given time, and would get cross if he didn’t.

It was only a matter of time before Minho noticed, and when he did he didn’t shy away from telling Newt to get over it already.

“He says Alby is no good for me,” Newt said to Thomas. “That he has me all wrapped around his little finger, but doesn’t actually give a damn about me.”

Newt sat up, straightened his back, but kept his eyes trained on the mailbox of the house across the street.

“And I know he’s not entirely wrong,” he said. “I do a lot of things for Alby, as I do for Minho. For all of my friends. And Minho has no right to say that Alby doesn’t care about me, because I know he does. Not in the way I once wanted him to, but that’s okay. I am over it and dealing with it in my own way. It’s Minho who’s having a hard time getting that through his thick buggin’ skull.”

“He just seems a bit protective over you,” Thomas said.

“I don’t need him to be,” Newt said. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Though the dulling pain in his leg would beg to differ.

Thomas chuckled, finally making Newt turn to face him. “I’m sure you are. Guess I should be careful about listening to Minho, right?”

“Good idea.” Newt didn’t have to convince Thomas of anything. “Anyway. Tell me about your friend. Why did you get upset about her calling you impulsive?”

Thomas’s face turned sour. “I’ll sound like a hypocrite, but can we not talk about that?”

“Of course.” Newt didn’t even hesitate.

“Thanks.” Thomas smiled ruefully.

Newt felt around for the key in his pocket. He took it out and turned it over in his hand. The streetlight behind them glinted off the metallic surface.

“What’s that?” Thomas asked.

“A key.”

He grinned. “Yes, I can see that. What does it open?”

Newt held it up, the silhouette barely visible against the dark night sky. “I don’t know, actually. I found it at home somewhere a while back and I’ve been carrying it around ever since.” He held the key out to Thomas, who took it.

“Why?” the boy asked.

Newt shrugged. “Maybe I’ll run into a random lock it can open. Who knows what I might find.”

“A pirate’s chest?”

“A vault full of gold.”

“And old diary.”

“Something that’ll get me out of here.” A beat. “Anyway.” Newt retrieved his key and pocketed it. Not what he wanted to discuss at three in the morning with some guy he’s known for all of four hours.

“Teresa’s been my best friend since we were six or something and I moved into the apartment next to her.”

Newt could just hug Thomas for his change of subject. “You move around a lot, don’t you?”

The boy nodded. “I guess.” He licked his lips, considered his next words. “I may not have told her we were moving away again.”

When Newt didn’t say anything for a while—for he didn’t know how to respond—Thomas got up.

“My parents are going to do worse than just ground me at this rate,” he said, voice far too loud.

He held out his hand and pulled Newt up. Newt could’ve sworn Thomas’s hand lingered just a little longer than necessary.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, safe for the clanging coming from Thomas’s bike.

“This is me,” Newt said.

They stopped in front of his house. Upstairs the glow of a nightlight showed through the curtains. His sister was waiting up.

“Good night,” Thomas said. He dug his toe in the ground. “And thank you. For making my night not quite so horrible.”

Newt laughed. “Thank me when we don’t have the cops knocking on our doors in the morning. We didn’t exactly worry about not leaving any fingerprints at the crime scene.”

“Fair enough. Thank you _for now_ then.”

“You’re welcome. For now.” Newt really wanted to thank Thomas instead. For making him remember that there existed people outside his little bubble.

The other smiled, rubbed the back of his neck.

Though Newt guessed Thomas had now become part of that bubble as well. Before he could dwell on it for too long, he went inside. He watched Thomas round the corner through the window, then headed to his bedroom. The light switch in his sister’s room flicked off the moment Newt closed his door.

Before he got into bed, he texted Minho to say he got home all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments on last chapter :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Thanks for the sweet comments! They seriously never fail to make me smile.

Newt hadn’t had nearly enough sleep when he entered Alby’s house at ten o’clock the next morning. Inside, it seemed the party had lasted quite a while still after he had left with Minho and Thomas.

But it was also clear that Alby had been at it already. Beer bottles stood collected on the tea table, next to a trash bag overflowing with plastic cups and empty soda bottles. The couch had lost two of its three cushions, and in their place was a potted plant.

Newt couldn’t stop staring at the potted plant.

“Don’t ask.”

Alby walked into the living room wearing sweatpants and a green hoodie, the sleeves rolled up. Of course he wasn’t surprised Newt had come to help. He looked tired and annoyed, and Newt couldn’t tell whether or not he’d made the right decision by coming over.

“I’ll just take that outside,” he said, and went to pick up the plant.

“It’s not ours,” Alby said.

Newt stopped, hands on the ridges of the weathered brown pot. He looked back. “It’s not?”

Alby shook his head.

“Then, how—”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I found Zart hugging that thing in his sleep before I sent him home.”

Zart wasn’t going to remember where he got the thing from either. Newt just left it on the couch.

They got to work on the rest of the house, passing around each other without a hitch as they cleared out trash and returned furniture to its rightful place. Newt was about to put the filled-up trash bags out on the deck, when Alby called his name from the front of the house.

“What is it?”

“Go collect your buddy while you’re at it. He can come help.”

“What are you—” Newt looked out the window to see Thomas loitering on the corner of the road. His heart lurched at the sight of him.

Alby grinned. “He looks like a lost puppy.”

“Someone oughta put a bloody collar on him,” Newt muttered, but he was already on his way out. The sky was just starting to clear after it rained all morning.

The puppy comment stuck when, the moment Thomas saw Newt, he perked up and Newt fully expected to see him wagging his tail. He felt Alby’s gaze burning in his neck and fought down the warmth crawling up his cheeks with a deep breath.

“Alby says we could use another pair of hands inside,” Newt said.

Thomas seemed taken aback for a second. “Oh,” he said then. “Yeah, of course.”

Newt laughed softly. “What are you actually doing here?”

The boy scratched the back of his neck. “I did come to help,” he said. “I felt guilty?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. I feel guilty.”

“Come on then.”

Newt led Thomas inside. There was an awkward moment when Alby asked what the boy was doing outside his house, and then when Thomas tried to explain the Gally-situation in as little words as possible and offered to help finish cleaning to apologize.

Gally had stayed over, but he was still fast asleep the last time Alby checked so he wasn’t going to cause them any trouble.

“I don’t blame you for Gally going off,” Alby said. “He had already been acting like a brat well before you got here.”

“Yeah, what was that about?” Newt asked.

Alby sighed. “Something about school and his parents. I think they might not want him to move out of state next year.”

Newt was beginning to understand Gally’s reaction, then.

Alby went to take care of the bathroom, while Newt and Thomas got stuck with the kitchen. Bottles and cups had been cleared away already, but just about every surface was sticky with spilled snacks and drinks. So was the floor. Newt found a shard of glass they must’ve missed when someone cleared up the bottle Thomas had smashed.

“So I guess your parents didn’t ground ya,” Newt said. He ran a sponge under some warm water to start cleaning the table.

“They didn’t,” Thomas affirmed. “They stayed up waiting, and they definitely weren’t happy about me running off, but they were glad to hear I’d made some friends.”

Newt laughed. “I imagine they wouldn’t be so glad if they’d seen the party. Or if they knew what we got up to.” He looked up to find Thomas grinning.

“No,” he said. “They would not. So let’s just keep that to ourselves.”

“Good that.”

After Newt rinsed the sponge one last time and Thomas made sure every last bit of glass was cleared off the floor, they went back to the living room. There Alby sat lounging back on the couch. Still next to that potted plant.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

Because Alby wasn’t doing anything about it, Newt finally picked it up and put the thing on the back porch.

When he walked back in, brushing his hands off on his pants, he said, “Either you’ll hear someone’s plant was stolen soon enough, or you just got your parents a present like the good son you are.”

“You know I’m the perfect son.”

Newt grinned. “Sure you are. The perfect son who throws parties when his parents are out of town.” He was pretty sure Alby’s parents knew about the parties by now, because their neighbors definitely did, and people talked. A lot.

His eyes fell on Thomas standing awkwardly by the kitchen door, rubbing his hands together.

Alby stood up from the couch with a huff. “I should go check up on that shank upstairs. Make sure he’s still breathing.” And with that, he left.

“You want anything to drink?” Newt asked.

Thomas shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”

Newt shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Because he was helping himself to a glass of water after all that. He sat down at the newly cleaned kitchen table, pulled out the chair next to him for Thomas.

The boy sat down and promptly rested his head on the table, hiding his face in his crossed arms. “I’m tired,” he whined.

Newt patted his back, his hand lingering for maybe a second too long. “You should’ve just slept in instead of trying to be all gallant to make yourself look good in front of the others,” he said. “In front of Alby.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out so gruff.

Thomas turned his head to look at Newt through one uncovered eye. “It’s that obvious?”

The other nodded, sipped his glass. “But I think it works,” he said then. “Alby seems to tolerate you. And that’s a big bloody deal.”

Thomas sat up. “I’ll take being tolerated.” He actually sounded kind of proud. “It beats having my nose bit off by Gally.”

Once he finished his drink, Newt really saw no reason to stick around any longer. It was nearing midday, and Gally could wake up any moment. He didn’t want to risk having him and Thomas in the same room quite yet.

“Thanks for the help,” Alby said, standing in the front door. “I appreciate it.”

That might have just been the most thanks Newt’s gotten since they met.

“No problem,” he said.

Alby hugged him goodbye. And Newt realized with a start that any feelings he’d once harbored for the boy were long gone.

 

“Hey, you got your phone on you now?”

Thomas tapped his pocked. “Yes. Why?”

They were headed back home after leaving Alby’s. Newt wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed. Rest his leg. He had woken up to a throb in his ankle that had yet to go away.

Newt held out his hand, and Thomas unlocked and handed over his phone without question. Newt went into contacts and added himself in. “There,” he said. “Now you can just text me instead of hanging around outside people’s houses waiting for someone to notice you.”

“I really didn’t know if I could just walk up and ring the doorbell,” Thomas said, rubbing his hand over his face. “Was Alby really weirded out?”

Newt laughed. “No. He thought it was kind of funny, really.”

Thomas groaned. Newt nudged his arm.

“It’s alright. I’d say you made an overall okay impression last night.” He didn’t need to know about the more than okay impression he continued to make on Newt.

“Thanks.” Thomas put his hands in his pockets. “How’s your leg?” he asked after a while.

Newt shrugged. “It’s been better. Why do you ask?”

“You were limping last night. When you, um, ran away from Minho.” Thomas averted his eyes, like maybe he wasn’t sure he should bring that up again.

“Oh, yeah. I’d just overexerted it. It’ll pass.”

“How did you break it again?”

Newt squinted his eyes. “I don’t think I told you.” He shook his head at Thomas’s apologetic smile. “You’re too curious for your own good.”

“Sorry.”

Thomas kept watching him, though, and Newt figured he was going to find out anyway. He wouldn’t put it past Thomas to ask someone else about it instead.

“I was walking home after hanging out at Minho’s. It was dark. I was hit by a car.” He didn’t look at Thomas, didn’t want to see his reaction. “Next thing I know I’m in the back of an ambulance with Mum crying and on the phone to Dad who stayed home with my sister. I spent about eight weeks in a cast.” He grinned to try and lighten the mood.

When Thomas didn’t say anything, Newt finally dared a glance. The boy had his eyes set to the ground, watched his own feet.

“I’m fine now,” Newt said.

“Was it an accident?” Thomas asked.

Newt stopped walking as his heart started to race. “Of course it was.”

“Sorry,” Thomas said right away. He scratched his neck. “I don’t know why I asked that, I—”

“I really wish you hadn’t picked up on that,” Newt mumbled. “But it _was_ an accident. I swear it.”

He didn’t remember much from that night, other than the shock of being hit and a lot of pain right after. The driver had called emergency services, who contacted his parents. It’d freaked them out, sure, and his sister still waited up every time he went out to make sure he got back alright. But it _had_ been an accident.

It’d taken the driver testifying that Newt did not actually jump in front of the car for everyone else to believe it as well.

“I shouldn’t have asked that,” Thomas said, looking down again.

“Don’t sweat it,” Newt said. He couldn’t help it. He stepped up to Thomas to make him look up and smiled. “I mean it.” He continued walking, and Thomas took another second before catching up. Newt was glad to see him smile, forced as it may have been.

Walking down the sidewalk, they reached a big puddle where the bricks slumped down. Newt stepped to the side, closer to Thomas, to walk by it. But the other boy had different plans. Newt caught him grinning mischievously before Thomas shoved Newt with his shoulder, tried to force him back on his side of the path and through the puddle.

Newt put his hands on Thomas’s arm to push him away. “Don’t you—”

All the while it didn’t occur to him to simply stop walking and avoid wet feet.

He’d just stepped the tip of his shoe into the water when Thomas gave way and Newt stumbled into his side. Thomas steadied him with an arm around Newt’s waist.

Newt definitely didn’t mean to lean into him, to look to the side and find Thomas’s grinning face so near. To feel a tug in the pit of his stomach.

“Shuck face,” he said through laughter when he finally pulled himself together.

Later he tried to figure out if he’d just imagined that they walked closer together for the rest of the way, if the bump of their shoulders and Thomas’s hand brushing against his more than once had only been in his head.


	8. Chapter 8

“Fightin’ again?”

Stood underneath Newt’s bedroom window, Thomas threw his arms up in a hopeless gesture. “I swear it wasn’t my fault this time.”

Newt couldn’t keep the grin off his face, already going to close the window and make his way downstairs.

He’d been aimlessly browsing the internet when his phone chimed, Thomas’s text saying he was standing outside Newt’s house. It had been a little creepy the first time, but after about two weeks and five late night outings, Newt had come to expect it.

Walking into the living room at one in the morning, Newt stopped dead in his tracks as he found his sister sitting on the couch.

“Wait up a second.” She pulled her phone away from her ear and covered the receiver. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m talking to my girlfriend.”

He hadn’t expected her to answer so readily. “I’m—” What was he doing? “Hanging out with a friend.”

A grin spread over her face. “ _Tommy_?” she asked.

Newt ran his hand over his face, turned away from the single reading light illuminating the living room. If his sister saw the blush creeping up his cheeks she’d never let him live it down. “Yes, Tommy,” he said. He slipped his shoes on and crossed the living room toward the back door. “I’ll let you get back to your girlfriend. Say hi to her for me.”

“Will do,” she called back just as Newt closed the door behind him.

Thomas stood leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets.

“So,” Newt said as they fell into step next to each other, headed for the streets. “Not your fault?”

Thomas groaned, throwing his head back. “It wasn’t! I was just on the phone with Teresa, and everything was fine, and I told her a bit about you guys and then… I don’t even know how we got there, but she asked me to come back. Again.”

The last time she’d done that, Thomas had gone over to Minho’s to play video games at eleven in the evening. They’d called Newt over and he’d beaten them both.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Newt asked when it was clear Thomas wasn’t going to elaborate on this latest fight.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe just walk around a bit? Find someplace to sit?”

“Alright.” Newt had quickly learned Thomas wasn’t usually one to have a plan at the ready. “We can go pick up Minho.”

“Hm.”

Newt frowned. “Or not?”

Thomas sighed. “Sorry. I’m distracted.” He stopped, turned to Newt. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. Sorry for dragging you out here so late. Maybe you should just go back home.”

But Newt was already shaking his head. “No, I’m staying with you.” When Thomas opened his mouth to protest, Newt held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it. You just want to walk? I think I know someplace we can go.” He started without waiting for a reply. Thomas’s footsteps followed right behind him within seconds.

They walked in silence, only broken at one point when their hands knocked together and Thomas muttered a ‘sorry.’ Newt acted like it didn’t make his heart skip a beat.

“It’s just around here,” he said once they reached their destination.

Thomas stopped to stare. “The cemetery? Seriously?”

“No, ya shank. Over there.” Newt went ahead. Thomas followed.

“Huh,” he said. “Odd place for a skatepark.”

Thomas was right. It _was_ odd. The park was just as small and meagerly equipped as their playground, and just like the playground it had fallen into disuse years ago. Every single ramp was broken in at least one place. The handrails looked fine, but no one dared use them for fear of the bars breaking and impaling someone. An actual thing Newt had overheard from one of his friends.

“No one comes here anymore. If you just want to sit around and look at the bloody stars, be my guest. Or we can continue walking. Take the long way back.”

“I-I mean—” Thomas stuttered. He did look up at the stars then. There were no clouds covering them tonight. “Looking at the stars. I would like that,” he said.

They ran up the ratty half-pipe, mindful of the holes and hoping their feet wouldn’t break through the plywood, to sit at the top. Thomas got there on the first try, but Newt missed the ridge and went running down again. On his next go, Thomas grabbed his hand and pulled him the rest of the way up.

“I would’ve gotten it on my own,” Newt said, crossing his arms.

Thomas smiled. “I know.”

Sitting down next to each other, they didn’t talk for a while still. They leaned back to look up at the night sky, and if Newt’s hand brushed Thomas’s, he could always pretend it was by accident. And if Thomas didn’t move away, well, maybe Newt didn’t have to pretend at all.

Eventually, as one single cloud rolled in front of the moon, Thomas cleared his throat. “You know I told you about my teachers pushing me into these science fairs and stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Thomas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He wrung his hands together. “That was already in elementary school. Then in middle school they insisted I join the science club, and again in high school, and that was all fine. Like I said, I do like science. Teresa was in it too, and we had a good time.

“But last year we started talking about what was next. What came after high school. And everyone seemed pretty set on getting me into this science program—the best in the country, apparently. At first I didn’t say anything, I just listened and went along with what they were planning for me. I acted excited.” He heaved a sigh.

“But you weren’t,” Newt said.

Thomas shook his head. “Not at all. I’d been doing exactly what they told me to do since forever, and I was done with that. I told my teachers as much, and sure they said they respected that, but every other day they’d bring it up again. Thinking because I hadn’t made up my mind about anything else, they could still convince me of this.”

“That sounds rough.”

“It was. We moved here to get away from all that. It was suffocating.”

“So you moved _here_?” Newt didn’t understand. Their town was nothing if not suffocating.

Thomas laughed. “You may not like it here, but to me this place is all I could wish for. Not many people who know me, no responsibilities. I’ve never felt more free.”

Newt couldn’t believe his own ears. Here, Thomas had found everything he himself had been searching for for years.

“Besides,” Thomas said, “it’s not like I got out of it completely anyway. Teresa’s still on my case about coming back. She wants me to attend uni with her.”

Newt nodded. “Is that why we’re here in the middle of the night?”

“Pretty much,” Thomas answered. He rubbed his hands on his legs, sighed, got up on his feet and started pacing the length of the half-pipe. “It’s just, she’s just like the rest of them. She’s got all these plans for me, for _us_. All these expectations. And lately I don’t know if I can meet those.”

“So you run,” Newt said.

Thomas stopped his pacing, looked down at Newt. The moon had reappeared from behind the clouds and cast her silver glow. Newt thought Thomas might not want him to notice the sheen in his eyes.

He bit his cheek, nodded. “So I run.”

A car alarm rang in the distance. Newt swiveled his head around on instinct, trying to locate the source. Over a minute later it was still going strong.

“That’s got to piss some people off,” Thomas said, sitting back down.

Was he sitting closer than before?

Newt focused on the other side of the half-pipe, marked with black graffiti that used to read ‘ _Wish I could kill every demon_.’ Someone had crossed out _kill_ and sprayed _kiss_ over it instead.

“What demons have _you_ got to kill?” Thomas asked, having tracked Newt’s gaze.

He bit his thumbnail. “None at all,” he muttered.

For a moment he feared Thomas would press for an answer, but then he surprised Newt by asking instead, “Any to kiss, then?”

Newt head snapped up, and if Thomas had been close before, he was well up in Newt’s personal space now. It was getting hard to ignore those curious brown eyes and that gentle smile.

He needed to change the subject.

“In about one year everyone I know is going to be off doing their own thing, going to their own places, and I’m going to be stuck here by myself with no idea where to go or what to do.”

Thomas leaned back. “That’s what you’re afraid of?” he asked.

Newt nodded.

“That’s still a year away.”

“It’s not that long.”

“What about Minho?”

“He’s going to go off on an athletic scholarship and leave me behind. I _know_ that, and I’ve made my peace with it.” Mostly. Newt took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I can’t get out,” he said finally. “This place is all I know. I’ve got no talents to pursue, so even if I did leave, where would I go? What would I do?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off Thomas, and the boy simply stared back.

“You’ve got time to figure it out,” Thomas said then, voice soft because they were already sitting so close and the night was so still. The car alarm had stopped and Newt hadn’t even noticed before now.

“I just feel like I’m stuck,” Newt whispered. “And if I don’t figure out what to do next, I’ll never get _un_ stuck.”

They sat like that for what felt like ages, feet dangling down the half-pipe, not finding the right words to say anything else. Newt licked his lips and he swore Thomas glanced down at his mouth.

And then Thomas got up again. That guy couldn’t stay still if his life depended on it.

“Personally, I’m a big fan of trial-and-error,” he said, hands in his sides as he looked out over the skatepark and far beyond.

Newt chuckled, the tension from mere seconds ago gone completely. “Of course you are.”

“Yes! And it works, too! For example, if I’d used any common sense at all I would’ve never gone to some dodgy party with two guys I didn’t know.”

“Just admit you’ve regretted that decision every day since.”

Thomas shook his head vehemently. “Not a second.” And before Newt could say anything else, Thomas was sprinting down the half-pipe, up the other end. He put his hands up in the air.

“Teresa’s right,” Newt called over. “You’re too impulsive.”

Thomas grinned. “Being impulsive got me this far, didn’t it?”

He ran back but lost his footing and almost went slipping down the ramp. Newt grabbed onto him, caught his arm in one hand and a fistful of his shirt in the other. Thomas got his feet back under him and pushed up, sending them both sprawling to the floor.

They laughed. Thomas pushed himself up slightly while Newt still had his hands on him but neither seemed to mind.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Newt said, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

Thomas’s smile subdued, but his eyes didn’t leave Newt’s. “Can I do one more impulsive thing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Newt glanced at Thomas’s lips, so close, then back up at Thomas’s eyes, so captivating. “Yes.” His voice came out rough, and Thomas laughed softly before sitting up. He pulled Newt up with him. Then pulled him closer by the hand in his neck.

Thomas cradled Newt’s head as he kissed him, hand threading through his hair. Newt’s fingers twisted into Thomas’s shirt, pressed into his side. He needed something to hold onto, something to ground him as his heart pounded hard in his chest. Their lips met and parted till at one point Thomas was smiling too wide and he pressed his forehead to Newt’s.

“See,” he said, and Newt’s heart fluttered again at the gruffness of his voice, “being impulsive pays off.”

Laughter bubbled up between them. Newt just wanted to lean in again.

So he did.

 

“I like you, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Newt stopped, mouth falling open in surprise at Thomas’s sudden statement. Then he laughed. They had finally started to head home—Newt hadn’t dared to check how long they’d spent on top of that half-pipe—and then Thomas said something like that.

“I think I got that message loud and clear,” Newt said. He pulled Thomas closer by their joined hands, kissed him again. They broke apart before Thomas even had a chance to cup his cheek. His hand fell back halfway up Newt’s arm, brushed down so he could take Newt’s other hand in his as well.

He glanced over Newt’s shoulder, eyes scanning the houses behind him. “I feel strangely exposed,” he said.

Newt shook his head, laughing. He followed Thomas’s gaze and had to agree. Even though it was the dead of night, there was no telling who stood in those darkened rooms behind those closed blinds. And maybe he just wanted these moments to remain only theirs for a little while longer.

So when they finally got back to Newt’s house, he pulled Thomas around to the backyard, closed off from the world by tall hedges.

“I like you too, by the way,” he said. “In case that wasn’t clear.” He rushed the last part before Thomas pressed their lips together once more.

“Good that,” the boy whispered against Newt’s lips.

Before Thomas left for his own place, they decided not to tell anyone quite yet. Newt wasn’t ready to share this, not ready to hear what Minho had to say about it.

He hated how badly he wanted his friend’s approval.

Once he got upstairs, Newt jumped, startled by his sister standing in his open bedroom door.

“I take it you had a good night,” she said, arms crossed. He could just about catch the smile on her face through the darkness.

Newt grinned. “I did, actually.”

The girl rolled her eyes good-naturedly, then disappeared into her own room without further comment.

So maybe they couldn’t keep it to themselves completely. And maybe Newt was alright with that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who's left kudos and comments these past couple of weeks <3 I almost stopped updating this at times, so, yeah. It all means a lot to me :D

Newt sat back on the couch in Minho’s basement, feet propped up on the low table and controller resting against his legs. He didn’t react when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, eyes on the screen that showed his avatar shooting down an opponent.

“Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Huh?” Newt was shot in the back by a sniper, yelped. The screen flashed ‘You died.’

“Good job, dude.”

Newt only grunted in response. He’d been so close to winning as well. As the game flicked back to its home screen, Newt put down his controller and turned around on the couch.

“Hi, Tommy. Glad you could make it.”

“My parents had me mow the lawn before I could come,” Thomas whined. He passed Minho to fall down on the couch next to Newt and grabbed a controller.

“Hey, I was playing!” Newt objected.

Thomas damn near pouted. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of turns. I had to fight a ten-year-old lawn mower to even get to come here.”

Newt rolled his eyes. He watched Minho grab the only other controller and start up another game.

“Clearly the boy has already had a rough day, Newt. Let him have this.”

“I’ll let him have something already,” Newt mumbled. He relished in the blush crawling up Thomas’s cheeks.

“Let’s play,” Thomas said, voice cracking. Newt bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Thomas shot him a glare. Newt feigned innocence.

They started playing after Minho gave Thomas a quick rundown of the controls. Thomas sat with his legs crossed, knee pressing into Newt’s, leaning forward with his tongue between his teeth. As Minho was only focused on the game in front of him, shouting instructions at Thomas so they could both survive, Newt tapped his fingers on Thomas’s knee.

“Thomas, come on!”

“Sorry!” The boy had only taken his eyes off the screen for a second to glance at Newt, but already Minho had run out way ahead and was waiting for the other to catch up.

“Not the time to get distracted,” Minho muttered.

Newt grinned. His hand remained on Thomas’s knee, drawing circles with his index finger.

When at one point Thomas had been ambushed and found no way out, Newt intervened. He grabbed for the controller, wrestled Thomas’s fingers off it.

“Let me fix it,” he said, still struggling against Thomas’s grip.

Thomas finally let go, held his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Safe us, Newt. Safe us all.”

And Newt did just that. His aim was far better than Thomas’s, so he shot his way out and made a run for the hills. Once he found a safe spot up there, he handed the controller back to Thomas. The boy didn’t even look at him, just continued the game.

“Well?” Newt prompted.

“Thanks,” Thomas grumbled.

“Get it together, man,” Minho said. “Cover me.”

One minute later Minho’s avatar had died, and Thomas walked into a trap.

“Well,” Minho said, setting down the controller. He turned to Thomas. “You suck.”

The boy threw his hands up. “I’ve never played this game before! Of course I’m going to suck if no one explains anything.”

“I did!” Minho countered.

“Not well enough.”

“I’ll explain some time,” Newt said.

Thomas smiled. “Thanks.” Then, to Minho, “See? Newt’s a good friend.”

The smirk on Minho’s face made Newt’s gut twist with alarm. “He is, isn’t he? A really good friend indeed.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Before Minho could say anything else, his mom called his name from upstairs. Something about unfinished chores and if he didn’t come up there right now it’d be the last time he had any friends over.

Newt grinned. “You better listen. I intend to keep playing your videogames.”

Minho huffed. “Coming!” he called back. “Excuse me while I go take out the trash or something.”

“Miss you already,” Thomas said, voice sickeningly sweet.

So Thomas had clicked right into their friend group. Even him and Gally were on speaking terms now, though Newt still caught the less than amiable looks Gally threw behind Thomas’s back. And though it had filled Newt with a strange sort of dread at first, scared of Thomas becoming just one more thing tethering him to this place instead of creating a way out, he’d come to accept it. Thomas had quickly become just as much a part of his daily life as Minho and Alby were.

“Don’t get smart with me, shank,” Minho threw back.

The moment Minho left the room, Newt turned to Thomas, who stared back.

“Should we play again? You could start training me for when Minho comes back.”

Newt raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to play a video game right now?”

Thomas looked at the TV screen for a moment longer, then back at Newt. A grin spread over his face. “No,” he said, shifting on the couch so his knees pressed up against Newt’s leg. He reached over to take Newt’s face between his hands, kissed him.

Hands on Thomas’s shoulders, Newt kissed back. It’d been two weeks since their first kiss up on that half-pipe, two weeks of stolen glances and sneaking kisses around friends, and Newt’s heart sped up just the same. He’d had Thomas over at his place once, but his sister had a nasty habit of walking into the room uninvited and they’d been so awkward, giggling like mad as their hands roamed over arms and chests and patches of uncovered skin.

“Minho could come back any second,” Thomas muttered against Newt’s lips.

“No,” he said. “His mom read off his list of chores to me earlier. We’ve got some time.”

“Good.”

Thomas’s fingers carded through Newt’s hair, got caught in a tangle, making Newt first yelp then laugh. He brushed the nape of his neck.

For two weeks now, Newt had been able to set aside his worries at least most of the time. Whenever he was with Thomas, he could forget about his senior year of high school starting in less than a month. He could push away catastrophic thoughts of graduating and growing up and moving on. He could escape his own mind for just a little bit, didn’t have to think about the future if he were happy living in the present.

When Thomas’s hand found its way underneath Newt’s shirt was when Newt decided that anything happening on the couch in Minho’s basement would just be weird. He brought their kisses to a halt.

“Still up for training?” he asked.

Thomas cleared his throat. He had a hard time taking his eyes off Newt until the other pushed a controller into his hands.

“Sure,” Thomas said.

They played a couple of rounds together where Newt took the time to explain all the different controls and items and when best to use them.

After no more than four rounds, they surprisingly made it into the top ten. It was even further than Newt had gotten when playing with Minho.

“No, Tommy, get over here! Jump!” Newt instructed. He was hiding away on the left side of the field while Thomas had gotten stuck hiding in a house that was now surrounded on all exits.

Thomas tried to run and reach Newt, but he got killed before he even got through the door. Newt was shot moments later.

Newt threw the controller down on the couch. “So close!” He turned his head when he heard laughter coming from the other, frowning and arms crossed over his chest. “What?”

Thomas shook his head, but couldn’t subdue his chuckles. “Nothing,” he said, voice pitching up.

Now Newt struggled to keep his own smile hidden. “What is it?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Thomas leaned in and kissed him softly.

“What was that for?” Newt asked, looking up into Thomas’s brown eyes.

“I think it’s cute how passionate you get,” Thomas said.

Newt shoved his shoulder, making Thomas fall back on the couch, but it didn’t stop the rush of warmth to his cheeks. He turned back to the screen, and right then he heard the door open upstairs. Minho complained to no one in particular on his way down.

“I told her I’d do it after you guys left. But _of course_ she wouldn’t just let me have another minute of fun first, as if those plants would die if they weren’t watered _right now_ and the dishes needed to be put back _right this instant_.” He stilled as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “You shuck faces played without me?”

Thomas pushed himself up. “Newt helped me become good.”

Minho scoffed. “I doubt that.” After another second, he looked at Newt. “How good are we talking?”

“We made top ten.”

“Well that’s a bunch of klunk.” He held out his hand for a controller, sat down on the other side of Newt. “Thomas, you and me, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Newt slouched back. “What? So I’m replaced already?”

Minho waved him off. “I just need to see what the Greenie’s got to offer now.”

“Don’t forget that I trained him.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Newt crossed his arms again with a huff. He shot daggers at Minho, who didn’t even glance in his direction as he started a new game. From the other side he felt Thomas’s eyes on him. He looked to find him smiling, trying to comfort him.

“I can screw up so he’ll never let me play again,” Thomas whispered.

“I heard that,” Minho said. “You’re not going to screw up on purpose. I’ll notice.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Newt said. He squeezed Thomas’s shoulder. “Make sure you win now.”

That didn’t exactly work out, but where they hadn’t even made it halfway the first time they played, Minho and Thomas got eighteenth this time around, beating over thirty other players.

“Not bad,” Minho said, nodding. “We might actually make a good team.”

“So I really am getting replaced,” Newt said. “Thanks.”

Minho grinned. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn. Right, Thomas?”

When they both turned to Thomas, the boy was looking at his phone, frown on his face.

“Tommy?”

He looked up, mind clearly someplace else. “Huh? Sorry, did you say something?” His phone lit up again and his eyes scanned the incoming message.

“Is something wrong?” Newt asked. He wanted to reach out and take Thomas’s hand in his, but he knew Minho was watching. He started to regret ever keeping them a secret.

Thomas finally pocketed his phone after sending a reply. He got up from the couch. “Um, no, everything’s fine. My parents just want me home for something.” He twisted his hands together for a moment. “Sorry I couldn’t stay longer,” he said to Minho, who just told him they’d get together again some other time.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Newt asked.

Thomas smiled, and Newt felt it was genuine. “Yes. My parents just want to talk about something. I promise it’s no big deal.”

He left without saying much else, turning down Minho’s offer to walk him out. But there was a moment before he turned for the stairs where he stepped closer to Newt, lifted his hand, before he realized they weren’t alone and his face fell a little. He said goodbye with a small wave of his hand. Newt had wanted to kiss him.

“So, how long?”

Newt was shaken from his thoughts when Minho spoke.

“How long, what?” he asked.

Minho crossed his legs, ankle on his knee. “The question is twofold, actually,” he said. He held up one finger. “How long have you guys been hooking up”—another finger—“and how long did you think you could keep it from me?”

Newt’s mind blanked. He was aware that he opened his mouth, but had no idea what sound was going to come out of it. Eventually he heard himself ask, “What are you talking about?” voice cracking as he did so.

Minho was enjoying this far too much, judging by the ever-growing smirk on his face. Newt had to put an end to it.

He finally pulled himself together. Minho knew; there was no use denying it now. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

“That’s none of your business,” Newt muttered. When he dared a glance at Minho, he was surprised to see his friend looking dejected. “What?” he asked, concern suddenly lacing his voice.

Minho shrugged, tried to play it cool. He failed. “Nothing,” he said. When Newt arched an eyebrow, the other sighed. He let his shoulders slump forward and his head hang. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked finally. “I’m your best friend, right?”

Newt bit his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I just…” He took a moment to collect his thoughts, to look for the right words. He didn’t want to upset Minho any more, but his friend had to understand why Newt had chosen not to tell him. “I guess after Alby I didn’t trust you to just be happy for me. And I needed to just be happy myself for a while.” He lifted his shoulders. “I couldn’t risk it.”

For a moment Minho looked like he’d been slapped, but he recovered quickly. “I get it,” he said. He groaned, then, rubbed his face with both hands. “I’ve been a pretty shit best friend, haven’t I? Dude, I’m sorry. I am happy for you. Both of you.”

Before the conversation could get any sappier, Newt picked up a controller and threw it at Minho. It hit him square in the chest.

“It’s cool. Now you know. Let’s just play.”

Minho seemed okay with dropping the subject for now. Newt thought they might have to talk about it more at a later time. Maybe. They’d see.

 

On his way home, hours later and long after sunset, Newt texted Thomas.

 _Is everything alright?_ He hadn’t heard from the boy since he left so suddenly.

Newt didn’t get a response till about half an hour later, when he was getting ready for bed.

_All good. Did I worry you?_

_A little. What are you up to?_

Three little dots blinked at the bottom of the screen, disappeared and reappeared three times before Thomas’s message came through.

_I might be outside your window._

Newt looked out onto the brown mop of hair looking down at his phone. He typed a reply.

_On my way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am 100% planning to write a second part to this story, but unfortunately I just haven't had the time yet. And I won't for a while, so please bear with me ^^
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this story! Have a nice day, everyone :)


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